


Consolation Prize

by wocket



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Academy Awards, Disguise, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: March 23, 1998. Burt Reynolds is nominated for an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor. He loses.
Relationships: Burt Reynolds/Jon Voight
Kudos: 2





	Consolation Prize

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a true story.

On the evening of March 23, Jon watches the Academy Awards with the rest of America. The Best Supporting Actor category finally comes up, and Jon watches with dread as Mira Sorvino announces that Robin Williams is the winner, and not his buddy Burt Reynolds.

Jon calls his old pal immediately after the Oscar ceremony, but he doesn’t pick up the telephone (which is to be expected). So Jon calls the hotel he knows Burt is staying in, but the switchboard operator won’t put him through. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Reynolds isn’t taking any calls.”

“But I’m his friend - would you just tell him it’s me? Tell him it’s Jonny.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” _Click_.

Jon shakes his head, frustrated. There must be some way to reach Burt. He didn’t deserve to be alone tonight (he didn’t deserve to _lose_ , either). Being nominated alone was an honor. Burt needed to hear how wonderful he was; something he told Jon again and again but refused to see or hear himself. 

Jon grabs his keys and heads to Burt’s four-star hotel. 

As he walks in like he’s supposed to be there, Jon realizes that he has no clue what Burt’s room number is. He heads for the elevator, pretending to know where he’s going, and then he sees it. A room service cart. _That’s it!_ That’s the plan. Jon walks toward it confidently. 

Just as Jon’s about to grab the cart, a waiter appears in front of him. _Shit. Think fast, Jonny_. Jon does the only thing that comes to mind. He asks for help. 

“Will you help me?”

The effeminate waiter doesn’t understand Jon at all. 

“Look,” Jon pulls him aside. “My friend’s locked himself in his room. Won’t let anyone talk to him. He’s just had the biggest letdown of his career — well, that part’s not important. Please, I need your help.”

The waiter raises his eyebrow. “Your — friend?”

Jon realizes his transparency. “A special friend.”

“Is important?” 

Jon nods. “Immensely.”

“Follow me,” the waiter says. 

Jon says a quiet prayer of thanks. 

“Who is your friend?” the man asks with a thick accent. 

“Burt Reynolds.”

“Ah,” the waiter says, like he gets it. “The sad moustache man. Upstairs.”

Oh boy. Yeah, that’s the guy. “I’d like to cheer him up a little.”

The waiter hands Jon a stack of clothes - a waiter’s vest and a towel. “Good luck, sir.”

Jon puts on the disguise, and goes off to find Burt’s room. He’s almost out of the kitchen when he spies a row of freshly made desserts. 

“If you must,” the waitstaff relents, looking away. Jon sneaks a few cookies for Burt onto his tray.

It doesn’t take long for Jon to find Burt’s room. He knocks and pushes the door open. Burt is on the bed, nose in a book.

“I didn’t order room service,” Burt denies, without looking up, and Jon doesn’t know what to do next. So he climbs on the bed and leans down and kisses Burt square on the mouth. Burt is surprised but doesn’t pull away - the dog - letting Jon kiss him. 

Burt pulls back and holds Jon at length. “Let me get an eyeful,” Burt tells him, looking him up and down. 

“I tried calling,” Jon admits while Burt checks him out. “They wouldn’t put me through.”

Burt points to the phone. He’s ripped the cord from the wall. 

“So what’d you bring me?” Burt asks.

“This isn’t enough?” Jon kids, motioning to his body. 

Burt grins. Jon reveals the cookies he stole from the kitchen. 

“I’d rather have a bite of you,” Burt flirts. 

“This thing is awfully itchy,” Jon admits, pulling off the vest. 

“Get over here,” Burt insists, making room for Jon in the bed. Instead of jumping his bones he lines his body up alongside Jon’s.

“Hey.”

“I’m not going to say it,” Jon tells him, meaning the words Burt has been hearing all night. _You should have won_.

“Thank you.”

“God, you look handsome,” is what comes out of Jon’s mouth instead. While Burt’s moustache has retained its color, his hair and beard are streaked with silver. His hair is still gelled back from the ceremony.

“Oh, hush.”

“Really. You’re incredible,” Jon can’t help but continue. 

Burt kisses Jon this time, drawing him closer. Jon puts his hand on Burt’s chest and it’s like he can feel his funk draining away.

The two men kiss and kiss and kiss some more.

“Been thinking about you,” Jon eventually admits. “Been a long time since Georgia,” he says, remembering a time when they were much younger. A time when they were less concerned with awards and more with making movies. 

“No moustache then,” Burt comments. “Fifty pounds lighter, too.”

Jon kisses the smile from his face. “Burt, I’m only gonna say it because it won’t go to your head. You’re as irresistible now as you were the day I first met you. 1972, 1997, it doesn’t matter.” Jon strokes his thumb against Burt’s cheek. It hadn’t been his intention to come here and seduce Burt. He just wanted to cheer him up a little. It wasn’t his fault that things heated up every time they saw one another.

“Has it been that long?”

Their hands move across each other’s chests, arms, bare skin. Burt slides a hand under Jon’s shirt, rumbling with pleasure when their hips come together.

Jon presses kisses to Burt’s jaw. “I wanted to cheer you up… How’s it working?”

Burt smiles in between kisses. “I can think of a few more things you can try,” he says with a wink. 

Jon kisses him again, still not believing this is real, same as the first time it happened back on the set of _Deliverance_. The two of them had always fit together, in the shade, in the sun, in the dark parts of Hollywood. 

“Thank you,” Burt says gratefully. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’d do the same for me,” Jon admits, holding him close. 

Burt shakes his head with a smile, kisses him deep. “Nah. You’d have won the damn thing.”


End file.
